Misfits
by Polarek
Summary: A bunch of people from our world have ended up in the game of Skyrim. Follow our main trio as they make their way through the half-familliar game! Will they live? Will they prosper? Do they really know what's ahead of them?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Helgen**

The sky was covered in scattered, grey and gloomy clouds. It was upheld by the vast mountains, towering over the army of pine trees and the people crawling at their feet. The air was permeated by a mist which dampened both it and the mood. Among the trees, on a cobbled road, a group of carriages, escorted by Imperial soldiers, was transporting prisoners; some dressed in Stormcloak uniform, others in rags. This story focuses on the trio in the last cart...

Merinda's POV

Her head hurt. She opened her eyes but her eyesight was blurry and everything was spinning. Her head was pounding and all sounds were muffled. After a few moments of breathing and trying to stay conscious, she was able to lift her head up and look around her.

It took only a few seconds for the stranger in front of her to say "Hey, you're finally awake. Tried to cross the border and walked right into that Imperial ambush, eh?" and her attention snapped up to him. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. This was none other than Ralof, the Nord Stormcloak soldier! And she was in the same cart as him. She noticed they were in the forests of Falkreath Hold and she knew where she was. The question now was how did she get here?

She glanced around and realised that on top of the usual entourage consisting of Ralof, Lokir and Ulfric, she was also accompanied by two other individuals. One who sat next to her and she had to look far up to see him in full. His skin was sickly green, though his arms were darkened by black hairs, and he towered over her like a bear over a fox. He had black dreadlocks that flowed down behind his back and a short but thick beard on his strong jaw. Two tusks protruded from his mouth but he did not wear the angry frown that his race were known for. Also, he was built like a brickhouse; his shoulders were almost as wide as those of two men, with a barrel chest that was barely contained by his rags and his arms looked made him look strong enough to arm wrestle all the other guys on the cart simultaneously and not break a sweat. However, he was still unconscious.

So her attention shifted to the other individual who ought not to be here (as much as she wasn't). He was an Argonian, well built though nowhere near the dimensions of the giant beside her. His scales were murky green and the ones on his face had a royal azure tint, complimented by faint warpaint stripes that went from him jaw down his neck. He had a plumage of royal sapphire feathers jutting out the back of his head with a set of straight horns. of which two were pretty large and jutted out slightly to the side but backwards nonetheless. One horn even had a bronze ring on it. And his slitted amber eyes were piercing into her right now.

Russel's POV

'Ah, she's awake,' he thought to himself, 'then maybe we can figure out how to get out of this trouble.'

Russel has been awake for a solid twenty minutes now and that had given him time to absorb their current predicament and let the shock pass out of his system. Now that it wore off, he was able to be uncomfortable from the journey and even had the opportunity to sit himself so that it allowed for more blood to flow to his TAIL. He's still trying to comprehend the sensation of an additional appendage but with time should be able to somewhat control it.

Since then, he had ample time to analyse the other people on the cart. Most importantly, the girl in the player's seat. She was a petite thing, probably a Breton, with curly and bushy hair of a fiery orange colour. Her face was angled (and quite pretty he had to admit to himself) with a little runic tattoo on her neck under her right ear. She looked around, first at their environment, then to the massive brute and finally turned her gaze to him and her sweet green eyes met his own. They stared at each other for some time before Russel decided to begin a conversation to gauge if his gut feeling was right.

"You're not from here, are you?" he inquired.

At first she didn't answer; if she had the same suspicions as him then he knew she too was from the real world and was trying to interpret his meaning to guess if he too is like her. So he Russel made it easier for her, though without giving anything away to the natives, and followed up with a "Do you come from a land that your leader promised to make great again? Or any other such regions?"

That got her to nod her head. So Russel turned his head to the orc. "Wake him up would you?". Might as well try to get as much info out of everyone as possible.

She looked at him as if he'd grown a second head and replied, "Hell no, you do it" She looked at the mountain of a man next to her and tried to shuffle away from him just in case.

'He's probably from our world, not a local barbarian,' Russ thought dryly, 'Though to be fair, he _is_ about five times her size so I guess it must be pretty intimidating, especially up close.'

So he reachedout with his foot, a thing covered in scales with long claws on his toes that he was still getting accustomed to, and prodded the Orsimer's tree-trunk thick legs. The giant awoke groggily, fatigue written all over his brown eyes. His first words were "What? Where..?". He looked around, swaying from side to side a little and finally asked, with the gruffest baritone voice imaginable "What kind of fucking shit am I on?". Oddly enough, he seemed surprised with his own voice, though not everyone seemed to pick up on that.

Before Russel could graciously inform him that he was not on any drugs, his new friend decided to lecture the hulking guy with a one word phrase "Language!".

The orc didn't seem too impressed, he looked down on the girl sitting next to him before saying "Whatever, sis, its not like Sherylin and David are here."

Both the Breton and newly-made Argonian sat there dumbstruck with what he just said. Russel eyes turned to the girl expectantly. He was clueless as to who Sherylin and David were but she seemed to realise just who she was sitting next to. Immediately, she tried to throw her arms around the man though with their significant size difference and the armwraps binding her wrists it didn't work. Nonetheless, she was ecstatic. "Greg! I can't believe you're here too. Oh my God!" The others on the cart looked at her with a mixture of confusion, disgust and suspicion. Lokir looked away, unable to stand the sight of someone, especially a woman, hugging onto an orc. The Stormcloaks, both the leader and the soldier however, picked up on the fact that the girl first seemed weary of the orc only to now be glad to see him. How come she hasn't recognised him if he is so dear to her?

The orc, (Greg, Russel could now put a name to the face) tried to calm his 'sister' down. Were they sibling back in the real world? "Merinda, what are yo- why are you so little? Why the heck am I so tal- and gree- the fuck!?" Oh, he noticed his new body. Before the fiasco could escalate, Russel decided to intervene. "Hey, so... You guys have any idea how we got here?", he looked at the orc and sternly added, "Were not locals, nor should we really be here." Thankfully, the Greg caught up with what his sister and the strange Argonian, 'Probably another real worlder.' he thought, were inferring here. He played along, choosing his words wisely. "I don't know, all I remember was trying to eh, cross the border until the Imperials showed up and snatched us up."

'Well, at least he's going with the game's story. Good, cause Ralof and Ulfric are already cautious as-'

"General Sir! The headsman is waiting!"

Dang, they skipped through the whole introductory dialogue? Russel's initial belief that everything in this world follows the scripts just went out the window. The door opened and on his high horse sat the commander of the Imperial Legion. Russel uttered "Tulius" and Ralof seemed to pick up on that adding, "Yeah, and it seems that the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves! I bet that had something to do with this."

Greg's POV

Merinda and Greg were still chatting feverishly in hushed tones, unknowingly to Russel discussing whether to trust the Argonian. "I'm telling you, he's in just as much trouble as we are right now so we could at least try and work with him." defended Merinda. But her older brother, ever the _over protective_ older brother, was adamant about not trusting a stranger too soon. After all, he could just use them for his own benefit to increase his own chances of survival. But Merinda just scoffed, just as the carts were stopping, saying, "Oh please, all three of us know off by heart how this thing goes. We'll all make it out of here if just follow the script." They got up and started getting off the cart, and Greg crouched low to quickly whisper in her ear, "We don't even know his name."

They lined up as the Imperial bit- officer- and Hadvar, who was wearing a strange Imperial version of steel plate armour that Merinda has never seen before, approached them and started reading out their names. Lokir tried to run, the Argonian claimed to be called, so that they at least knew his name now) and they lined up to the execution. Two things stuck out to Greg. Firstly that he was the only orc around whilst also towering above all other people present. His sister looked even smaller next to him now that they were standing up. If his estimates were right, no one around was over 6 feet tall, 'Russel' seemed to be just that height, Merinda was a puny 5'5" and he himself looked like he was a jaw-dropping 6'9" if not 6'10". All solid beef, to his great pleasure. Secondly, the trio weren't the only non-Stormcloaks around. These rag-wrapped strangers were scrutinizing them the same way that the trio was scrutinizing them so it would be fair to deduce that they too mysteriously found themselves in the game.

He scoured all that were present and realised that one of his favourite mods, Immersive Armours, has been applied to this world. Odd.

The first Stormcloak soldier brashly walked up to the chopping block and kneeled down and readied himself for the headsman. Greg noticed with satisfaction that the headsman whom he used to think of as really buff, was meek in contrast to him now. He doubted that this little ego would go away, but neither did he want it to.

Once that was dealt with, the officer turned to the rest. She carefully picked out the the finest specimen for show and decided that his little sis would do. As Merinda walked closer to the chopping block, Greg got nervous. He knew how this was going to play out, but seeing that bitch kick his, _his!_ sister down, his blood boiled. And not even the terrifying sight of Alduin landing on the watchtower could chill the rage and protective instinct he was feeling.

 _ **So? How was it? How's the chapter length? Tell me people!**_

 _ **I know that I'm supposed to be writing 'The Unorthodox Hero' but writing for the same story all the time is kind of tiring and boring so I decided to mix things up a bit and write two stories at the same time. Both will be updated once a week from now on since I've got myself a new schedule to work with. Expect the next chapter of 'TUH' to be out soon!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Unbound

**Chapter 2: Unbound**

When he roared, all hell broke lose. The sky turned blood red and the clouds danced in a spiral of which the centre spewed a barrage of fiery rocks; deadly projectiles that plummeted to the ground. The once tranquil town was tranformed into a cacophony of petrified villagers. The Imperial soldiers were dismayed by the beast in front of their eyes, whilst a dozen or so prisoners stared at the monster they were fammiliar with and realised that whatever was in front of them was not familiar at all. Alduin seemed to be close to twice as big as in the game, his eyes glowed, lit up with a hatred for the pungent mortals, and his spines stuck out of him at every angle and acted like an armor that threated to kill any daring fool faster than the dragon's maws could ever hope to.

He then shouted FUS ROH DAH! and swept aside half the Legion and the headsman who was preparing to make Merinda a head shorter. Her brother ran to her and helped her get up as she was way too dizzy to stand on her own two feet.

Merinda's POV

She leaned into her brother's arms, as awkward as it was with their hands bound, and let him carry -drag- her to the nearest tower where the Stormcloaks took cover. When her vision cleared, she could see that the three of them that shared the cart had made it into the tower. She looked around but Greg shoved his face right in front of hers to check up on her.

'Gods his gob is ugly' Merinda thought as she pulled away from his slightly.

As Ralof and Ulfric talked, Greg asked her "You feeling ok?" worringly. "Sis, talk to me!"

His voice rang in her ears painfully, adding to her slowly rising headache. She put her hands on his shoulder and pushed him away slightly, trying to get some space to breathe...

"Meri, talk to me! Do you even hea-"

"Yes I can hear you, you baffoon." She cut him off. Carefully getting to her feet, she rebalanced and could take in her surroundings more comprehensively. Of course, her care-sick brother took up most of the view but aside from that everyone was scrambling to gather their things and preparede to make a hasty run for it. Even the Argonian boy looked at her patiently wating for her to signal that she has recuperated. Once she nodded and allowed a more firm face to set in, they allowed Ralof to lead them up the stairs. Once they got to the next floor, Greg pulled Ralof back and pressed him to the wall. When the Nord looked back at them they all were sticking to the wall and the Merinda saw her green relative mouth 'trust us' and nodded to the rubble that another Stormcloak was trying to clear when, as expected, Alduin burst through the wall and incinerated everything in sight.

'He'll ask how we knew this was going to happen,' Merinda thought and looked at Greg, 'he better not reveal our identies like that to everyone.' Her brother could be an oaf sometimes...

Ralof was stunned, to say the least. However, given the urgency of the situation decided to ask later. And he will ask, those three have proven to be quite the mystery. First they seem like they don't know each other, especially the girl and that orc, then they talk cryptically to and hug one another showing that they _do_ , then they have some sort of foresight? And Merinda was not looking forward to having to either explain the truth or coming up with an intricate lie.

For now though, Ralof looked across the opening and told them to jump down to the inn on the other side.

Russel's POV

Russel peeked over Ralof's shoulder and saw the deathtrap the Nord suggested as their escape route.

"We'll catch up with you when we can," the Stormcloak added, "now hurry!" And with that he clambered downstairs and left the trio to their own devices. They all looked at each other expectantly. Glancing at the inn and back his new friends, he sighed and started biting at his ropes with his sharp teeth. Merinda decided to speak first in her confusion, "What are you doing?"

"Ahm trthyinn-tfo bfaith thgruuugh..." he tore out some of the rope and felt his binding loosen and spit out the offending item but before continuing addressed them clearly, "I'm trying to bite through this. Like hell I'm going to jump into a burning tavern whilst being unable to move my hands freely." He then proceeded to bite at his restrains a bit more until they fell off and he could move his wrists around and stretch out his arms in opposite directions.

Seeing that the other two could not do that, he walked up to the burnt corpse which was once a rebel, and pulled out what remained of his iron battleaxe. It was still very much warm but hopefully wouldn't have dulled. "Come on then you two," he said holding the weapon in both hands, "Better that you be free as well." Though much to his consternation, the Breton girl flinched away with widened eyes. "You crazy!? What if you chop off our hands!"

Russel closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly before explaining that, "No, you'll simply place your hands on the axe head and cut through your bindings whilst I hold the battleaxe. You think I can swing this?" He added sarcastically.

Merinda blushed, ashamed by the misunderstanding. A snort sounded right behind her, and soon turned into a boisterous laughter for her brother had found her blunder mighty amusing. Once his amusement wore off, he approached their new scaly friend and started cutting his bindings of whilst Russel held the axe upwards and in place for him. Merinda soon followed suit.

'Now,' Russ thought, 'we actually have to jump down there to progress in the game.' Understandably, anxiety kicked in and he was reluctant to make the leap of faith. He glanced back at the siblings and Greg simply nodded nervously. So much for encouragement. Turning his attention back to the smoldering ruins below him and decided to take it slightly slower than in the game. He crouched and held onto the corner of the hole in the wall. He then let himself hang from the ledge. Turning his head to look down to the inn behind and below him, he pushed himself away from the wall and landed on a charred wooden beam, probably used to hold up the roof, and then jumped down again to the inn's top floor and rolled though not gracefully. Other than that, he made it quite safely.

'Well, at least I made it. Would be pretty embarrassing if I died at the tutorial.' he thought. Looking back to the tower, he beckoned his friends to do the same. The two could see that Russel made it, meaning that the action was at least somewhat safe.

Russel saw the orc preparing to jump and decided to move out of the way for his own sake. When the brute landed on the bed, it gave way and blew up a cloud of cinders and ash from below it. When Greg rose, Russel noticed that he was holding the battleaxe they took from the Stormcloak rebel... And he _jumped_ whilst maintaining his grip on that? Truly not the brightest star in the sky...

They two turned around and waited for Merinda to follow suit so Russel decided to move slightly further away and give her some more space. Greg did the same. Shortly after Merinda's voice could be heard as she shouted while she jumped. Unlike the two guys before her, she did not have the benefit of landing on the bed and when she reached the ground, she collapsed to the ground and turned over, face riddled with pain. She'd scraped her knee and lower leg muscle and it was somewhat raw. Her brother of course rushed to help her get up and allowed her to lean on his shoulder, though in rder to do that she had to stand at full height whilst he was kneeling. The two looked back at Russ, "I'll carry her, let's not stop" he informed. Russ however, had a completely different idea.

"Merinda, is it? Yes? Look at me," he half-comanded, "Can you ignore the pain for a second?". She and her brother looked at him weariliy, but Merinda nodded anyway and raised her leg up slightly to take pressure off of it. And so, Russel continued, "I would like you to concentrate on your magicka."

.

.

.

They were dumbfounded by what he proposed. Merinda, though, quickly picked up on what he was trying to get her to do so she closed her eyes and tried to think of how to focus some sort of obscure energy within her. It was tricky, for how does one actually use magic now that it didn't consist of merely clicking a mouse button? For the first few seconds Merinda searched for her pools of magicka and after eventually feeling some sort of electricity coursing though her veins and around her heart. Believing, though without guarantee that that was the case, that she had a good grasp of this electricity, she imagined- nay, willed- it flowing to her hand and turning into divine light.

Greg's POV

Greg was getting impatient by the second. 'He wants her to try magic _now_? We need to find cover before that flying fucker brings the roof down on our heads' he thought. Yet his sister held firm, her eyes closed. Slowly she put her hand to her leg and held it open above it. For several seconds, with screams and roars and the sound of crashing meteors casually heard in the background, Greg prepared to leave his new axe behind in order to carry her, but suddenly Merinda exclaimed in joy and their eyes were filled with joy as tendrils of wispy golden light emanated from her palm and danced around her knee. Everyone watched as the blood on her knee dried and crumbled away and the raw flesh mend itself together to the point where you could have never been able to tell that Merinda was ever hurt. For a second no one moved until she placed her foot down and tried to walk and did so without a hitch or grimace.

Greg stood there dumbstruck at what had just happened; his sister just healed herself of a wound! Just like that, with a wave of her palm. "Sis, you okay?" he asked in disbelief.

She looked at him and jumped into his arms "Yes, yes! I did it! Oh my God you need to try this too! The warmth and the sweet ticklish sensation of it! I cou-"

"Not to spoil the fun but can we jubilate once we escape from this hellhole?" Russ interrupted. Both siblings looked at him annoyed though that didn't faze him one bit. Greg let go of Meri and decided that the lizard guy was right, they should keep moving. Picking up the Stormcloak's - now his - battleaxe he gripped Merinda's hand and they started moving on. Jumping down to the floor below was childsplay by comparison. They saw Hadvar carrying a weeping boy away from the street just as Alduin flew by and breathed living inferno onto the wounded man lying on the cobblestone. His shrieks lasted for a mere five seconds, though undoubtably they would have been the most excruciating five seconds in his life.

Hadvar asked a senior citizen to take care of the kid and looked at the trio of escapees, with Greg around they were hard to miss, and told them to stick with him. That was unnecessary, all three know perfectly well what is going to happen over the next twenty minutes or so, but they still followed him.

Against the wall, through the burnt house, past Tullius and into the main bailey.

At that point, their little group came to an infinitesimal conundrum: sureley, they didn't all hold the same allegiance? Nor could they split into two groups; they'd end up having to fight each other in the round room later...

Now Greg had usually aligned himself with Imperials, partly because of his leftover Oblivion loyalty. However, whilst fogiving them for attempting to execute him in game is quite dissmissable, it is now much more difficult to overlook in person; they almost died! They almost chopped Meri's head off! He looked around his friends to gauge what they thought of this. Merinda was of similar disposition as him, wanting to first see what the others thought.

Russel's POV

'Great,' he thought, 'they're looking at me now.' It would seem that the siblings wanted to search for some sort of compromise regarding who to go with and they wanted to know his opinion first. Or they just couldn't make the choice on their own; like he's supposed to know when they haven't uttered a single word... 'Why do I have to be their nanny?' With the dragon about, and raining hellfire on them, he made the quick choice of going for the nearest cover which meant going with Ralof. What's more, unlike most people, he actually sympathized with the Stormcloaks more than the Imps.

The other two quickly followed him into the keep. Hopefully they won't complain about his choice. Nay, they don't have the right to complain if they decided to follow his example. Once in the keep, with the catastrophy's cacophony behind them and dulled by the doors, they could breathe more calmly. Letting Ralof walk off to say goodbye to his fallen comrade, they faced each other and could for the first time actually talk.

"I'm guessing that we should try to figure a few things out. Merinda and Greg is it?" he asked. When both nodded, he began. "I'm Russel and I've got zilch of an idea of how we got here and how to get out, but I can tell you this: we better be darn careful. We don't know what happens when we die, this isn't regular Skyrim if you've noticed the armors so it looks like its some sort of modded version, and it seems the script isn't exactl-"

"So how did you know that dragon was going to burn our skin off, Orc?" demanded Ralof, as he was walking towards them.

"-exactly fixed." he sighed. Looking up, he decided to take the initiative and make up a lie for the big guy. Something told him that the guy who took the leap of faith whilst holding a battleaxe wouldn't think of a good story on the fly. "He probably saw the dragon approaching through one of the small windows in the tower. I'm guessing-"

Ralof, however, shut him off, "I'm asking HIM, not you." He let his eyes settle on the group and added, "Actually, all of you have so far acted quite weird. I want to know what that's all about." He pointed at Meri and Greg, "So do you two know each other or not? And who are you anyays?"

The green lug had at least the brains to confirm Russ's 'story' since he had nothing better to say himself. Now came the difficult part.

Merinda's POV

"You see, we're actually adopted siblings." she said. Merinda saw Ralof narrow his eyes in doubt and Russel close his eyes and take a deep breath which Ralof thankfully didn't see. 'Still better than your "saw it through the window" story. Besides, we actually are siblings.' she thought. Ralof however, couldn't quite believe this story. "Your family took in an Orc?" he questioned.

"How would you know I wasn't adopted by a family of Orcs?" she countered, defensively.

Ralof only laughed at that display. "Girl, I've worked with a few Orcs before, let me tell you that a Breton lady like you wouldn't have survived an Orcish upbringing!" He wiped a tear off his eye. "It is very noble of your parents to hae done so. Few would have the heart to take in an Orc." he added before becoming stern again, "Now how is it that you didn't recognise him?"

Russel had in the meantime walked off to Gunjar's body and started to undress the dead man. Ralof saw that but didn't say a word, probably used to having to loot corpses in a war.

"He looked different from that angle. I did recognise him once he spoke." she hoped he would buy that. There was no way she could simply explain how could someone not recognise a family member they had known for years. As fate would have it, Ralof didn't have the time to interrogate them any further as Russel called out that Imperials were coming. Relief flowed through Merinda followed shortly by immense dread. They would have to fight their way through half a battalion's worth of troops in this dungeon. They'd have to kill. She'd have to murder...

Shivering, she turned to her brother and her face seemed to say it all to him. Immediately he stood up, though a bit too much as now she was just the height of his lower chest, so he kneeled down and cupped her face in his hand. "Sis, listen to me, we'll make it through. Yes it will be horrid, but we'll make it. You don't want to fight and hurt people, I get it. So you just stay behind and me and Russel and Ralof will clear the way." She couldn't bear to hear it though, "What if you get hurt? You can't risk that Greg."

Ralof and Russel were by the gate, waiting for the Imperials to open it in order to ambush them. Greg joined them and stood beside Ralof so Merinda stood behind Russ. 'Not the best idea, he has probably zero experience when it comes to fighting, I should be standing behind veterans like Ralof or beef mountains like Greg.' she thought.

Russ however, suprised her by making up far what he lacked in combat skills with his brain and asked, "Hey, I know that you're scared right now. I too am petrified but can do us a favour?" The gates started rising, the Imps were right here. "Bretons start off with the spell; summon a wolf could you?"

And so Merinda concentrated on the same energy as before, now it was a thousand times easier, and tried to imagine bringing a wolf from the ghostly parts of Oblivion. She opened her eyes and cast the spell just as Ralof charged forward with a cry which paralyzed one of the Imperial legionnaires. Chaos erupted around them. Unlike in the game, there were about four Imperials, one of which was Hadvar. That of course made sense; he did make it into the keep afterall.

Her wolf jumped onto the youngest soldier, scared witless by Ralof, and the poor lad struggle to get the canine off him. All around, people struggled. Ralof was trading blow for blow with that captain bitch who tried to execute her. Her brother and friend however weren't faring that well. Russel was fighting Hadvar and Greg another soldier and eventhough the legionnaires were probably recruits, they still have one set of basic training more than her two green companions.

Greg's POV

'So glad I took a weapon like this,' he thought to himself, 'otherwise I would have nothing to fight with right now.' It also offer extra reach and a pretty large handle to use to fend off the blows from the soldier. Not a shield but good enough if it was keeping him alive. However, the little shit was pressing him hard. He had to block an overarm swing, a stab, a quick slice at his legs. Hell no, if he was going to survive this, he'd have to fight back and go on the offensive!

So Greg waited for the unsuspecting soldier to try and take another hit at him and when the man attempted to stab him again, Greg stepped to the side and knocked the bottom end of his axe into his face. The few precious moments this granted him, with the soldier disoriented and not facing him, he lifted the axe over his head and brought it down on the poor sod's back with all the strength he had; which was a lot. A sickening crunch followed and Greg's battleaxe bit into his flesh and with the young man's newfound strength crushed and cracked the soldiers spine, burrying the axe head in his torso almost in its entirety. At first the axe wouldn't budge but after a few tugs it let go and the corpse fell to the floor lifeless.

.

.

.

Greg could only watch in horror at what he had done. He was now a murderer. The lad's blood splattered all over his rags and bare arms, dripping from his weapon of choice. He was vaguely aware of his sister holding her hands over her mouth to stop herself from shouting, or maybe regurgitating, at the gory scene before her. They managed to glance at one another before he embraced her in a bear hug. They both knew he just comitted a vile act, but it was in self defence. They stood there like this for a second, just trying to use each other's presence to calm down. Unfortunately for them, the sounds of combat quickly invaded their ears and brought them back to reality.

The Imperial captain was bleeding from her arm where the gauntlets and the armor pauldrons didn't protect her and another soldier lay on the ground with his throat torn out; that was the one Merinda's wolf targeted. Russel however, wasn't diong as well as the rest of them. It was quite clear he had no clue how to wield an axe and Hadvar was pressing his advantage. All Russ could keep doing was take a step back over and over again to dodge Hadvar's assault, at least until he had enough. Whilst he didn't have access to magic like Merinda nor the brutish strength of Greg, he was smart and fast on his feet. His reptilian senses and reflexes helped. He spotted a dagger at Hadvar's hip and decided to risk it. When Hadvar was least expecting it, Russel took a swing at him with his axe, but instead of retaining his distance for the sake of safety, he pushed up as close to Hadvar's side as possible, allowing him to hold his ground against the stronger Nord and limit his maneuverability. Quickly he slipped out the dagger in half a second skipped from being beside Hadvar, to being behind him. Too slow to react, everyone watched as Russ plunged the blade into Hadvar's throat.

The gurgling sound that emanated from his was almost as unpleasant as the crunching of a spine. In the meantime, Ralof managed to dispose of the captain and they stood there for a second, taking in the fact that they managed to survive a round of combat. Their breaths were heavy but smiles evetually reached their lips.

Soon after, they started searching through the bodies af the fallen. To Greg's disappointment, he couldn't take the heavy steal armor as it was fitted for a woman half his size. It would see that the armors won't magically fit you like in the game. Russel dropped the axe and looted two steel daggers from the fallen, strapping them around his waist behind his back so that they were dificult to spot and not in the way and then proceeded to pick up an imperial sword following which he gave it a few swings and decided it was much better than an axe. 'Pft, I'll stick with my axe. It's a shame that I can;t us it with a shield though.' though Greg, dejectedly and turned to Merinda, "Sis, aren't you going to pick something? Something other than a dagger?"

She looked back at him and whispered, "I'll take the mage robes, further down the dungeon. I think I'll stick to magic and casting it from a distance." He looked at her, unsure of whether that's a wise decision. Sure, the robes and enchantments on them, but he would still prefer if she wore something, or rather anything other than the prisoner rags she has right now!

Anyhow, eventually, with Ralof - who took Russel's axe and was now dual wielding - they walked down the staris and corridors of the keep into the underground. They entered a room with two more Imperials and once again pushed their element of surprise. Greg and Ralof teamed on the officer whilst Russ gladly focused on the single soldier. Greg was starting to enjoy those fights, as dangerous as they were: the adrenaline coursing through his veins was a thrill. However, something was off. When facing off the officer, he felt... miffed... he was angry with the man for some reason. Watching him swing at him and parry Ralof's blows was a bit infuriating. He waited for the opportune moment and when the officer's blade got stuck on Greg's axe, he rushed forward. He barraged right into the Cyrodiili man and squashed him into a wall so hard the fella cried out. Greg shoved his sword out of them was and brought axehead up to his neck and the head rolled.

Greg was breathing heavily and his muscles were twitching. Only now did he realise that his vision was tinded red and sharp he whole time and now blurred a little before going back to normal.

He looked for an answer in Ralof's face who only took as step back and asked, "Your Berserker's Rage subsided now, Orc?" Is that what it was? 'How did I activate it?' he pondered.

Russel's POV

Whilst the other's were busy with the officer, Russ tried to get a good grasp of his new weapon. It was a hundred-fold better than an axe, but still not enough. This soldier was faster and halfway through the fight managed to get cut on Russ arm, right below the Stormcloak armor chainmail. His arm was bleeding profusely for a while. Russ had to step up his game. As he was dodging the strikes directed at him, his tail touched a piece of furniture (dear Lord the sensation of having that extra limb is really messing with his mind!) and he quickly formulated an idea. When the soldier tok another lunge at him, aside from just side-stepping the attack, Russ pirouetted and slammed his tail into the soldier's legs making him lose his footing. Wasting no time, Russ plunged the blade into the man's chest.

They could rest again, now that they were in a storage room, they could even eat something and collect a few potions. Russ was about to down a healing potion but glanced at his arm and his eyes widened. His wound, the cut, it was gone! It had healed in its entirety, by itself... This was odd. They took a moment to sit down at the table and talk whilst they ate, and Ralof decided to check more barrels and chests, leaving them alone for a second. He and Greg discussed what had happened to them both.

"It would seem we have our racial abilities, but rather than being once-a-day power ups, they act constantly, though perhaps to a lesser degree." Russ theorised, "I don't see how either of us could have activated our abilities, and they don't seem to be as powerful as in the game, so I'll presume they are instead more like a buff." He smiled at that and leaned back in his chair. "Lucky me that means I don't need health potions! I'll just get over any injury I survive."

Greg and Merinda looked at each other. Greg asked, "So what's her ability?" He'd never played as a mage before.

Merinda however, was kind enough to answer for him, saying, "I guess I absorb some of the magic from harmful spells thrown at me. But only a small portion." Greg was satisfied with that answer, it meant magic wouldn't cause her as much harm.

Russ got up and decided that they should keep moving. Neither they nor Ralof could find anything else that would be of use. There was a yet another major challenge before them; the magic using torturer. None of them knew how they'll tackle that, since none of them could protect themselves from magic.

 _ **Hey, so the axams are over now and I realised I could get back into writing so here's te product of the past four hours for you. Hopefully, I'll be able to start a schedule according to which I might update. Anyhow, expect another chapter... soon?**_

 _ **And post a comment. How is it so far? Is the pacing good or can I speed up to get through more content?**_


	3. Chapter 3: Escape

**Chapter 3: Caves, Stones and Woods**

Greg's POV

"Let's not waste any more time. Oi Ralof, we're going now!".

They all got up and left the storage room with one Stormcloak in tow. They walked at a relatively slow pace, silently dreading the encounter ahead of them. They could in fact hear some screams coming from downstairs. Petrifying shrieks of agony, the crackling of lightning and a maniacal laugh echoed up the stairs and got progressively louder with every step they took. Eventually, the torture chamber came into view from around the corner. With the rusted iron cages placed against the wall, and one hanging from the ceiling by a chain, the wicked twisted tools for mutilating the bodies of prisoners and the corpse of a long-dead inmate, the torture chamber exuded dread and foreboding. Yet they had to traverse onwards. On shaky legs, although Greg would never admit so.

They saw a Stormcloak soldier's body shake with spasm as her body was electrocuted. The torturer's face was split in two by a disturbing smirk of glee.

They could not stand to watch this any longer. He charged in along with Ralof, Russel followed behind but with less vigour. Seeing them, the torturer launched lightning at them, hitting each of them with a separate stream of Sparks. 'Dear fucking Lord, this hurts!' thought Greg. He could barely move and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. The searing pain cut though his muscles starting at his chest where the magic struck. However, whilst the onslaught continued, neither he nor Ralof could move and the hair on his shest crackled as his skin burnt. And still, he could not control his own body.

"Hey, ugly!" shouted Russ, to get his attention.

The torturer turned to the lizard man, ready to fry him too. Only his eyes went wide and he stumbled to the side trying to avoid the dagger thrown at him. Albeit being thrown sluggishly, a dagger is still a dagger. Greg fell to the floor and wheezed, finally able to breathe and saw Russel dashing to hide behind a pillar to not get struck by lightning. In his hands were four mismatched daggers; one steel and three iron. Russel nodded his head, indicating to Merinda to get involved. Greg looked at her with horror as Merinda ran for the cover of the next pillar. 'You idiot, you'll get her killed!' thought Greg, 'If she dies, I'll kill you myself.' He wanted to get up from the floor to cover his sister, but his arms shook and gave out beneath him, still numb from the shock spell. The torturer prepared to cast more lightning at her, but to Greg's relief Russel leaned out from his hiding place and threw another dagger to distract the torturer and he hit the man's forearm. The pain from the cut forced him to cease casting his spell which allowed Merinda to get to cover safely.

However, the torturer now knew that this Argonian was quite dangerous having both interrupted his killing of the two warriors and cutting his still bleeding arm; now incapable of casting spells due to the pain. Greg saw the torturer's good arm holding a rampaging storm in his fist, the spell charged and primed. When Russ next leaned out in hopes of at least scratching the vile man, he received a lightning bolt to his shoulder of his throwing arm. Hiding back behind the pillar, Russ was visibly shaking, with sparks still dancing around his upper torso, and his tail tip spazzing out which would under other circumstances be hilarious. And so the torturer turned back to his former victims lying on the floor; Ralof and himself. Having incapacitated the two larger men, rendering the reptile harmless at such a distance and with the girl having no weapon, electricity danced around his fingers again, he prepared to subject Greg to what he started earli-

A shadow wolf snarled and leapt at his target.

Merinda's POV

She tried to grasp the heat inside her, tried to bring fire into her palms. 'I know I can, every damn race starts off with this spell' she thought nervously. Her wolf was being treated to a round of sparks, albeit a weaker one. The torturer having largely depleted his magicka reserves and only having one arm to use said reserves. Merinda could now feel the warmth at her fingertip, her hand turning red as her temperature rose. With delight, she could see flickers of flames and cinders erupting from her hand, and then the little flames at her fingernails resembled candle flames and soon enough in at the cusp of her hands, a living inferno burned in mid-air, never burning her skin.

Her jubilation was cut short when the summoned wolf died yelping, and Merinda barely had enough time to duck behind her pillar again as the feeblest stream of Sparks managed to glance off her head. The pain, whilst unbearable, was not as immense as she would have thought, after seeing her brother dearest wriggling on the floor shouting in desperation and anguish. Her breath shaky, but otherwise stable, she summoned the flames back to her hands, this time with ease just like summoning the wolf, it was no longer an issue. The energy she usually reached for in order to cast spells seemed more vivid than before, there was more of it. 'Did I just absorb some of the lightning?' she wondered in awe. 'That would explain why it hurt so little.'

She heard the torturer pull out a knife and his steps took him ever closer to her. When Merinda tried to emerge form behind her pillar, some Sparks struck the stone next to her head. The man still had some magicka left. Unable to counter, Merinda started panicking and looking around, desperate for anyone to help her. But everyone else was still too numb to move and Ralof had lost consciousness. It wasn't the most magicka-taxing element for nothing afterall. With no other options left, Merinda became desperate and stuck both her arms out to the sides and cast Flames backwards from both sides of the pillar. Though at first, she had no clue whether she aimed true, the torturer's screams let her know that she hadn't missed. Stopping only for a second to look at her work, the flames disappeared, and the torturer's face and arms were covered in burns and blisters. Through his pain, he tried desperately to fling one more set of Sparks. 'Oh no you don't!' she thought and blasted more fire at the sadistic Cyrodilli man. His flesh further peeled away and crackled as his tunic was slowly being eaten away and his shrieks filled the chamber. Oddly enough, the firee didn't catch and failed to keep burning. He did eventually die, and the stench of burned flesh stung their nostrils.

She walked up to her brother and helped him uncork a vial of a healing potion for him to drink. He downed it in one gulp and slumped against a wall. It took a moment for the effect to take place but surely, she could see the burns and cracks in his chest disappear slowly, healthy skin growing back to its rightful place, the only sign of the magic left was the blackened gaping hole in his rough spun tunic. 'We need to find him some proper armour, and fast.' she thought. Greg, now practically recovered, stood up, and cracked his bull sized neck which had stiffened back when the torturer shocked him. Being so close to him, reminded her of his stature. 'I guess we'll need to find a smith to custom craft it however...' There was no way Greg was going to wear anything forged for normal people. Even Russel had to cut a hole in the Stormcloak's uniform for his tail.

Speaking of the devil who was furiously marching up to them.

Russel's POV

"Where you insane or trying to kill yourself!" he angrily demanded from Greg. "Didn't you think for a second about how to tackle that guy?" He pointed to the charred corpse of the torturer. He walked up to the dim-witted giant and looked him straight in the eyes. "Next time, we're going to plan ahead so as to make sure we all make it through alive, understand?" The Orc stood taller, clearly offended by what he said. Greg growled in response, not liking the tone with which he was being addressed but Russ held his ground. He tried standing up, chest to chest, face to face with Greg, but that just looked pitiful given how Greg towered over him.

Greg leaned forward to look Russ directly in the eyes and said "And what did you do? You hid behind a stone pillar like a pussy!"

'Oh no you did not just say that' he thought and voiced his opinion, "No, I saved your life by distracting the fucker and covered your sister while she got into position. I even landed a hit on that guy. Allow me to reverse the question; what did you do? Hm?" Greg clenched his fist, his arms tense, wanting to sucker-punch this scaly little prick. But looking into those slitted eyes, full of determination and righteous fury, he knew he couldn't. Russ watched as the brute's face softened as the realisation of what he did got through his thick skull. Russ sighed internally, knowing full well that had Greg really wanted to, he could have broken each and every single bone in his body. When he was sure that the giant had cooled off, he decided to get a grip on everything. "Wake up Ralof. Me and Merinda will try to open that cage with the mage insi-"

Greg's fist struck his stomach with surprising speed. His eyes bulged out as all breath was knocked out of his lungs. Russ fell to his knees, wheezing breathlessly, clutching his gut. He tried to inhale some precious air, but his lungs would not settle for it, it hurt too much. A huge green paw grabbed him by one of his horns and lifted him up. He was face to face with the overgrown man-child, his neck straining painfully with the rest of his body hanging from his head, feet off the ground kicking empty space helplessly. The Orc wasn't even struggling to hold up his entire body weight with one arm. His voice took on a low, dangerous baritone, "Just why do you think you can order me around?"

'Ok, so maybe I should be a bit more delicate with this oaf...' Russ thought in hindsight. 'We need to work together.'

At this point Merinda spoke up, "Gregory Stanford Harroway, put him down now!"

Russ's eyes shot to the girl and it took all of his willpower not to laugh. That's was his full name? She however, he noticed, was in no mood for jokes. She gave him a piece of her mind, sternly, "He did help keep me safe! Now put him down, We need to get out of here and unlike you he at least has an idea of what to do."

Greg was dumbfounded. "Meri, why on Earth should he be telling us wha-"

"I said, Put. Him. Down." she ordered with a sense of finality.

Reluctantly, Greg let Russ down on the floor. His hands went to massage his neck after it was stretched to its limit. "So, check up on Ralof would you?" he said, tentatively. This time, thankfully, the big fella did as asked and stomped off to tend to their Nordic fellow escapee. Russel turned to Merinda and mouthed a very pronounced 'Thank you'.

"No problem," she whispered, "I know he can be a pain to deal with. But try to get on his good side and he'll treat you like he treats me. He's really a great guy once he warms up to you. Now, would you mind helping me get that set of robes?"

They walked up to the cage with the dead mage, beside whom there were some scattered coins and two spell tomes. That's one more than in the game... "Do you think I could melt the lock? she asked. Russ was sceptical, "No, if the mage couldn't break out, then magic probably won't help much. At least not simple spells like Flames." Instead, he knelt and put his ear to the lock mechanism. Using one of the lockpicks that were laying around on the table, he tried to press down on the lock's springs and turn the keyhole. Obviously, his first attempt was an utter failure and the lock set itself back. However, just before the pick broke, he heard a faint screech before the lock stopped moving. His reptilian form allowed for slightly better senses than that of non-beast races and so he tried to gauge when to turn the lock and when he pressed down on springs enough based on their sound. Two lockpicks later, the lock clicked, and the door opened. Russell stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Merinda's POV

She reached out for the money and tomes. Their colours indicated Alteration and Destruction schools. By quickly looking inside and reading the first page, she found that those were spell tomes for Oakflesh and Firebolt. 'Wonderful, more fire to turn people into walking pyres.' she thought grimly. Then there were the mage's robes. Was she supposed to just strip a dead guy naked? Sure, they had clothes wrapped around their thingies but she wasn't going to undress a man like that. Blushing, she turned back to Russel who was looking at her expectantly. "Could you... maybe... well.. he's a man and I shouldn't really..."

Russ just rolled his eyes. Guys would have no problem undressing a girl, whether that's for better or for worse, and Greg definitely had no qualms taking the armour off of that Imperial officer lady to see if her apparel would fit. But he did her the favour and untied all the straps and buckles from the robes and handed them to her, piece by piece. At first, putting them on was problematic, seeing as they were made for a guy and she was especially petite, but with Russ's help she managed to tie the robes tightly around her waist and they weren't too loose. What's more, she could feel the enchantments flow onto her, her magicka flowing through her veins more energetically and lively.

Ralof however, could not be awakened. Greg recommended leaving him behind whilst the dragon and Imperials are still out there, but Russel decided to wait for him, seeing as they will need him to take them to Riverwood and vouch for them, else they'll look like a haggard band of vagabonds. And in the meantime, Merinda decided to flip open the Oakflesh book, and immersed herself in what the book taught her of casting the spell.

'...can be cast gradually, with the protective layer growing from the casters hand, down their arm and onto the rest of their body. This process is slower albeit easier, especially for people new to casting this spell. It is worthy of note that casting it in such a way initially consumes roughly the same amount of magicka as casting the spell instantaneously. The preferred method will simply become easier and more mana-efficient with time and practice. The student ought to...'

By the time Ralof, awoke, she had time to read through the whole book (spell tomes aren't as long as she thought) and cast the spell for good practice; it would seem as she had a knack for magic as within two tries she could cast the spell instantly. In the meantime, Russel and Greg have rummaged through the little storage room. Greg found himself a hide shield and an iron mace. At first, he saw no point in a shield, but seeing as he had no armour to speak of, Meri simply would not let him go without it. Russ, in turn dropped his Imperial steel sword in favour of a typical Nordic steel sword, saying it had the same weight but was slimmer and longer, which he preferred. Once Ralof woke up and came back to his senses, they set off again. Merinda placed the books she found in the satchel she picked up from the mage and was astonished when the books simply disappeared. When she reached into the bag, it was several orders of magnitude larger and the books felt nearly weightless whilst in it.

'I'll have to show this to the boys once we exit this dank cave.' she determined.

Greg's POV

They were now approaching the last chamber of the underground keep, this is where they would face off against the greatest number of Imperial soldiers. They could see the end of the corridor leading to it, when suddenly Russ, the little bastard, told them to stop. Aside from the fact that he didn't like the little guy's idea that he was in charge, he could not fathom why would they just stop and sneak to the chamber slowly. They'd get there anyhow so why slow it down. He glared as the boy stuck in an Argonian body, snuck up to the door only to then turn away from it. Then he whispered to the team something along the lines of "I'll get the first soldier as he walks up patrolling, then you guys run in. With one of them down and the element of surprise on our side, we might get away without any of us getting hurt."

And so, seeing as Ralof and Meri decided to listen to that punk, he had no choice to follow that plan too. And so, when an Imp soldier was close enough, Russ snuck up on him and drove two daggers into his back. This startled the other soldiers and all hell broke loose. Soon enough every single one of them was fighting a soldier. Two of them were officers and so Ralof and Greg had their work cut out for them. Russ in turn was fending off the other two lower-rank soldiers while wielding both his sword and one of his daggers. he would have been stuck at an impasse seeing as the soldiers were too co-ordinated for him to take them out separately but a well timed blast of fire from Merinda saved him from the trouble. Greg on the other hand, was trading blows with the officer who could use the shield much better than Greg could; not one of his attacks seemed to hurt the Imperial. Only as his frustration with the man grew, and his Berserker's Rage started rising, did Greg finally slam into the officer and whilst the man was dazed, swung his mace from an underhanded position and when it struck the soldier's chest with his monstrous strength, the lesser fellow went flying five feet backwards. Blood sputtered from the officer's mouth as Greg crushed his lungs, with a prominent indent in the armour where his mace struck true.

Everything would have been nice and dandy if not for the arrow that then buried itself in his back.

Pain shot up and down his body, knocking the breath out of him, and that's with his Rage active which otherwise lessens pain reception. He whirled around to spot three soldiers on the other side of the room with bows primed and aimed at them. He raised his shield in time for another arrow to hit its mark. The arrowhead pierced through the shield and stung his arm. Clenching his teeth, he was about to charge but Ralof dragged him back to the door they came in through. Well, tried to drag, no one could actually do that, but he relented and took cover. Looking around, no one aside from him was hurt, and Russ managed to pick up a simple longbow and some iron arrows from the soldier that he killed. He watched as he knocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring. Pft, he wanted to take out the trained archers? He wasn't going to stop the fellow if he wanted to commit suicide...

Russ leaned out of their hiding spot and shot an arrow in the direction of the soldiers... But it was horribly off target. It flew right over their heads. Bah! That was how he wanted to win the fight. Russ leaned out and launched another arrow, this one again arced above the heads of their enemies, only this time, Russ's shoulder was hit. He groaned as the arrow bit into the same spot as the torturer's lightning bolt, where the armour he was wearing was still slightly burned. Sure, he had recovered from that wound quickly but a fresh wound in the same place was unpleasant. He helped Russ pull out the arrow, the sissy didn't want to do it himself, so Greg decided not to be too careful and gentle. Meri looked at him knowingly, but he just shrugged. Russ muttered something under his breath and asked Merinda to light one of his arrows on fire. At this Greg had enough.

"And how exactly do you want to hit them this time? A flaming arrow doesn't fly any better and won't fix your shitty aim." Greg burst out.

Russel looked at him, irritated. "Because, I'm not aiming for the soldiers." He hissed. He stuck out his scaly arm and three arrows whizzed past. So at least they knew all the archers were still preying on them. Without turning to face Greg, Russ continued, "Look, I'm going to need to charge at them in a second, just not yet as they would turn you into a porcupine in a matter of seconds. Can you trust me when I say I have a plan?"

Everyone looked at him now, unwittingly putting pressure on him. Without much of a choice, and without a plan himself, he agreed to comply with Russ's request. Not follow his order but comply with his idea. And so, Merinda lit an arrow, on fire, which Russ knocked onto the bow and pulled on the string. He leaned out once more and let the arrow loose. This time, the arrow hit the ceiling above the archers' heads and fell to the floor by their feet... from where an inferno sprung up as the oil on the ground was lit by the arrow's last embers. The burst of flames consumed one soldier and caught another's clothing. Russ gave the signal and Greg ran through the chamber with his shield raised just in case. The third soldier tried to put out the fire that danced on his compatriots and was caught completely unawares when Greg dropped his mace and shield, drew his battle-axe from his back and swung the axe head right into the soldiers face, splitting it in two. The other soldier could nothing as the axe also buried itself into his side, which along with the fire killed him.

Russel's POV

Now that, the keep was behind them, the group could move onwards through the cave. 'I'll have to practice a lot more; in the future it would do better for me to hit the oil lamp the first time.'

They picked up everything they could from the Imperials: gold, spare armor pieces they could carry (Greg finally found some gauntlets and boots which fit even if they were a very tight fit) and some arrows which Russ could practice with. They soon reached the cavern he dreaded the most. All of them aside from Ralof knew what was down that corridor and tensed up. At first, it was eerily quiet but the gentle scuttling and chittering from above gave away the position of the spiders. In a panic, Russ loosed an arrow straight up and Meri started blasting fire in the direction of the ceiling. To their credit, they did hit two spiders, one of them fell to the floor twisting on pain as it burned, the other, screeched and climbed down to them. The other three spiders followed. And 'oh dear heavens' Russ thought, seeing how rapidly they moved! In the game they were slow and clumsy, here their legs worked in tandem allowing them to run faster than any human could. This reminded him of the spiders in the Witcher Wild Hunt expansions which were terrifyingly fast. One spider ran up to him, ready to bite him with its nightmarish mandibles. By pure instinct and nothing else, Russ shoved his sword into the spider's face. The beast screeched in agony and crawled away from him. However, so as not to lose his advantage, he drew both of his dagger that he had strapped to the back of his waist and rushed at the monster. Too blinded by pain to notice the assault, the spider did not stop him as he drove both blades into its eyes. The arachnid's legs shook all over the place for a second, but it soon died. Russ pulled out his weapons from the corpse and looked around him. One more spider was alive, standing over Greg. Greg managed to heave the spider off him and onto its back, he then picked up his axe and swung it down into the spider's exposed underbelly and killed it just like that.

They took a second to recuperate again, and Merinda noticed that Greg wasn't looking great. The oaf at first claimed everything was fine, until he tried to get up and fell back down on his ass. Turns out, the spider managed to bite him and inject a substantial amount of Frostbite Poison. Greg's arm where he was bit started shivering, and Greg started feeling cold all over. Ralof said, that unless we have any anti-poison potions, Greg might not make it. Greg protested the notion, saying he could tough it out, Merinda was slowly becoming desperate and tried to use her healing spell on him, but she could not cast it on him; she lacked the spell to heal others. Slowly, Greg's breathing became heavier but hollower. Seeing that Greg's arm started taking on a sickly green -darker sickly green- colour, he decided to try one last method. He held Greg's arm still and put his mouth (snout? jaw? maw?) to the wound. Before anyone, namely Greg, could protest, he started sucking on the wound. Predictably, at first Greg tried to push him away, but with the poison still in him, his bearish strength was gone.

"What are you doing!? You'll get poisoned too!" Ralof exclaimed.

"No, I won't-" Russ stated between the sucking and spitting, "-as an Argonian I can resist-" and another round of poison was spat out, "-most poisons and diseases."

And so, Russel just sucked out some of the liquid flowing through Greg and spit it out and kept repeating until the metallic taste of blood became prominent.

Ralof and Merinda swarmed him, infuriated that he would do such a thing, but all he could do bend over as he felt bile climbing up his gullet.

Merinda saw this and asked, "I thought you could resist he poison?"

Breathing heavily, after throwing up in the corner, he answered "Yes I can. That doesn't change the fact that is tasted vile."

Greg in turn, slowly got up and tottered over to the lizard. He placed his mitt on Russ shoulder and looked down into his eyes. For once, Russ saw no challenge or fire in them; this time Greg's eyes conveyed a deep level of respect and admiration even. "Thank you." the Orc managed, shakily, "I... I probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't done that." They just stood there in silence just appreciating the fact that they weren't enemies, that they could trust each other to cooperate and keep each other safe in dire situations. This too, however, they had to cut short, since they needed to get out of the cave. And so, they continued onward in silence, slipping past the bear and her cubs and ran towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Not that tunnel.

Once outside, they could inhale a very cold breeze of fresh Skyrim air. Just as they were about to start celebrating, Alduin flew overhead, but thankfully didn't spot them. If that part of the script had changed, it would be very unfortunate for them. Once the adrenaline of everything had passed, they chatted with Ralof, who invited them to Riverwood. Seeing as they technically already knew the way, they said they saw maps before, and will catch up with him. Once Ralof was out of earshot, Russ turned to the other. "We need to get our bearings and make a plan. It's quite clear that this isn't just like the game, and if you've noticed the other prisoners, we're not the only ones. Not to mention, it seems like mods are active." The others just nodded, so he continued, "We should figure out the mechanics of everything to make sure we survive. Paralysis was never an aspect of shock magic, there are new armours and weapons out there for us, probably new enemies although I hope not." Greg looked at him and asked, "Are we going to stick together?"

Of this Russ wasn't too sure. He decided to share his musing with them; "It would be best for us to stick together; we can trust each other more than we can absolute strangers. This way, we might make it through anything." He sighed and everyone knew there was a 'but' coming, "However, what we all need is to develop proficiency in our respective fields. It will do us little good if I can't shoot from a bow very well, if Meri here knows only three or four spells and if you don't know how to fight professionally. Don't look at me like that. You're bloody strong yes, but not trained, and you're walking around bare-chested whilst others are wearing armour." After giving it a quick thought, they decided that the best thing to do will be to travel to Whiterun and from that point onwards try to develop their skills. Surely, they can find the right people who can give them a few tips and lessons. "What's more, it would be ideal for us to eventually clear out Bleak Falls Barrow to find out who's Dragonborn and to acquire some wealth and fame to help us. So, we're going to Riverwood then Whiterun." He stated. Then he looked at Greg, who sat quietly, and doubt gripped him, "That is... you guys good with that?"

Greg looked at him and nodded. He decided he won't start unnecessary fights with his leader.


	4. Chapter 4: Civilisation

**Chapter 4: Civilisation**

Merinda POV

Merinda was relieved to see her brother finally get along with Russ. Feuds would really not have helped them right now, or ever really. Her head turned to Russ as he got up and said they should head out now. Knowing they had a long way to go still, they set off, downhill towards the valley between the mountains where Lake Ilinalta lay, this way they ought to come across the path that will lead them to Riverwood. Then she remembered.

"Oh, guys! I forgot to show you!" she exclaimed.

Reaching into her bag, Greg's eyes bulged out while Russ's narrowed seeing how far her arm disappeared into the minute satchel, and she pulled out both her spell tomes.

"The bag is magical. Its spacious on the inside and everything I place into it seems much lighter. The dead mage in the dungeon had it on him, perhaps we can find some for you to carry your own stuff? I can't imagine how we're to travel around Skyrim only carrying things in our hands."

They walked onto a path that meandered downhill among the trees, relieved that at the very least they weren't lost. Russ however, crossed his arms and asked "Why didn't you say anything beforehand? We could have packed a lot of equipment from the keep."

She looked at him confused. "We don't need eight sets of swords and armours, do we? Why wou-"

"Because we could have sold them for gold." he cut her off. "We will need money more than we did in the game seeing as we have to eat food and sleep; expenses with which we didn't need to bother before and Lord knows if the prices of goods and services are the same as they were on our computers and consoles."

She looked at him dumbfounded. How did she not think of that! Sure, in-game you'd build up your wealth as you played, inevitably, but now they desperately needed coin to provide basics for themselves. Meekly she countered "Well... we did pick up coins from those soldiers, didn't we? Surely that will be enough for food and drinks and beds in an inn?"

Russ sighed. "Perhaps, perhaps not. We only took so much gold as it is quite heavy. I have about eighteen on me, and its really weighing me down." He looked at Greg.

Greg in turn untied his coinpurse and counted his share, "I have twelve pieces in this one," he then opened his second coinpurse, "and thirteen in this one. So twenty five."

Russ then tuned to her. "So assuming you have around the same amount, we have give or take sixty Septims." He raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at her. "I understand that you do have that much gold?"

Sheepishly, Merinda reached into her bag again and to their great surprise pulled out several bags of coins. "Seeing as everything becomes lighter in the satchel..."

Her companions' eyes bugged out at the amount of gold she possessed. At least 70 coins! At the in-game prices, that would fed and house them for several days. Of course Russ was ecstatic and quickly forgot to be miffed that Meri kept the knowledge of the satchel to herself. She could see it in his eyes, he was already calculating how to economise the resources they had at their disposal. And so they trekked on through the woods, _'This world is much bigger than the game.'_ she though to herself, until the road wound downwards drastically, and they could see the glimmer of sun reflecting from ripples in the water. They ran down to get a better look at the lake and it was a gorgeous sight. It was deep blue and so peaceful. The water expanse was vast, and unlike in the game, the opposite shore was far enough so that its details were difficult to discern. And right beside them, at the turn on the road, stood three obelisks with dots carved into them along their length. They stood in a semi-circle on a platform of sorts. The trio knew what had to be done. Each on of them walked up to their Guardian Stone; where each one would touch the cold rock and take another step towards fulfilling their roles. When Meri, touched her stone, the dots on it lit up, and connected, forming an image of the stereotypical wizard in robes with a flowing beard. As the obelisk shone like a beacon, she could feel a great, ancient magic course through her. And as soon as it began, so did it end.

Greg POV

"That it? he asked. Looking and everyone else, they too seemed to have experienced the 'whoosh' that he felt. Only, he didn't feel any stronger, or more knowledgeable on combat. He turned to Russel and expressed his concern. Russ however, simply shrugged at that and replied with, "The Guardian Stones don't bestow any powers or abilities. Remember that their boon is to increase the rate at which we learn." Then he quickly added, "Supposedly by 20% but I don't think that such maths works here." Greg however, wasn't pleased. He was hoping that it would immediately teach him how to wield an axe like a master but he had hoped for too much. It didn't even make him any stronger (not that he needed that) but it meant that it conferred no effects that could be felt right now.

Regardless of that, they continued down their path. At first, the still water and the rustling of trees in the breeze made for a tranquil atmosphere, but the shade that the pines and aspens cast, combined with Skyrim's crispy air, made the journey unpleasant for him. Whilst Russ and his sis had clothes on, he had to make do with a pair of tight boots, some crap trousers from the start of the game and some steel gauntlets which weren't lined with anything; his bare skin was touching steel. And he still didn't have anything to put on his torso since the shirt got burnt and torn under Helgen. Suffice to say, Greg was beginning to freeze. He shivered and rubbed his arms and hands together to retain some body heat, and unbeknownst to him, Russ's keen eyes picked up on that.

For some time, they travelled along the White River and its rushing rapids. And they all ended up drinking from it; Russ without reservation given the safety of his health but Greg and Meri did so more cautiously. They had no pots to boil the water in, and whilst it most likely wasn't polluted, it didn't mean it was safe from diseases. In the end, they did end up gulping it down, seeing as it was their first drink since arriving in Skyrim and due to the water's natural wealth in minerals which translated to a fantastic taste. Now well hydrated, they could finally reach Riverwood, not without passing a pair of skinned wolves, in regards to which they knew the culprit, and finally arrived at the quaint little village as the sun was beginning to set. The first thing they noticed was that it was bigger; there were more houses reaching further southwards with a couple of acres of farmland behind them. That at least made sense; it would explain how Riverwood fed itself when in the game it seemed no one produced any food.

Russ suggested they split up; Meri would get them rooms at the inn whilst Russ and he try and negotiate a good price for the equipment they dragged from Helgen. They did bring with them some spare daggers, Greg brought an extra sword and Russ thought of selling some excess arrows. When they found the smith, Alvor was about to finish his work. He was packing away his wares and the fire in his forge was dying down. However, whilst he would not forge anything new today, he had no qualms trading with a couple of latecomers. At first, Greg had no clue how to evaluate the value of items they wanted to sell; how much was Imperial steel worth? Russ however, was on it and started off by asking, "How much would you want for some steel arrows?"

Baffled at first, they were here to sell afterall, he watched as Russ basically extracted all the information they needed to better guess how much their items were worth by literally asking the question, albeit indirectly. By the end of the exchange, they managed to sell 2 iron daggers for 3 coins each (even though Alvor sold them for 5 a piece), 6 for one steel dagger (Russ wanted to keep two strapped behind his waist) and a total of 12 gold for an imperial sword. In return, Russ could swap out his ordinary training bow for a standard hunting bow, but could not swap out his arrows for steel ones, and Greg received a discount for an iron shield when he handed in his hide one. Russ then asked Greg to check up on Merinda. Well, seeing as they had the gold they needed, he decided to comply and left off for the Sleeping Giant Inn.

Russel POV

He turned back to Alvor and said, "Right, I have a couple special orders I wanted to make."

Alvor raised an eyebrow, but nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I would like to have this reforged," he drew his Imperial blade and handed it to Alvor, "after taking a few swings with that iron sword of yours, I think I prefer its tapered design in contrast to the leaf blade of the Cyrodilli. The centre of its weight isn't skewed away from the grip so much." He explained.

Alvor nodded and agreed to do that for 20 coins, he even offered to move the excess steel to elongate the blade, giving it more reach. Russ liked that idea; whilst a soldier doesn't want too great a reach so as not to hit fellow soldiers in his ranks, he had no such restraints. Grateful for that, he moved on to his second order. "You saw how large that fella was?"

Alvor burst out laughing, "My scaly friend, I'm sure people can see how massive he is from across the village! Why d'you ask?"

"Well, he isn't exactly equipped to handle the local weather. I was lucky enough to pick up this," he gestured to his armour, which still had Stormcloak colours, "but as you might imagine nothing that we could find would fit him. Even the shoes he's wearing took him a while to put on. Not to mention, he will die from a wound sooner or later if he just walks around half-naked, essentially inviting any stray weapon to strike him. I wanted to ask if it would be possible for you to solve that problem for us and hammer out a suit of armour for him?"

Alvor's head turned to the Inn, where Greg was probably with his sister, and after a moment of thought, decided to agree to that. "There is however a minor issue. Two even. I don't know his size. I'd need to get his measurements before I can make anything. Then there's of course a matter of payment; if it were to be full iron, it would cost ya a good one hundred and twenty coins."

Russ head spun a little at that figure. They didn't have that much, even put together. Seeing the apprehension in Russ's eyes, Alvor quickly explained, "The local iron mine was taken over by a band of bandits a week ago so I had to buy iron from Whiterun, and that's not cheap. Plus, he will require a lot more materials than the average guy. And that's just the basics, pauldrons and fur lining will cost extra, but I presume you'd want those too, yes?"

'Ideally', he thought bitterly and nodded. "I'll get him to come to you tomorrow so you can take his measurements. But say, what if the mine was up and running again? Would you be able to bring down the price?"

Alvor lit up at that, "Why of course! If I don't have to import it from the city, it will cut down my costs by close to a half, not to mention Halmor and Svenrig would have jobs again. If you were to empty out that mine, I'll drop the price down to one hundred septims, and that will include the pauldrons and furs."

Now Russ knew just how much of a difference that mine was making, at least for Alvor and him. They said their goodbyes and Russ headed for the inn. When he entered inside, he didn't expect to see Greg armwrestling with three locals at a time. And they weren't scrawny bastards either. And yet their faces looked strained, seeing how Greg's arm wouldn't budge. Russ decided to get in on the action around them and very quickly placed a bet on his friend. Very slowly, their hands tilted in Greg's favour, the uproar of support from the onlookers for their friends was met with Merinda's sole support for her brother. As the match dragged on, the Nords started sweating from the effort, whilst Greg seemed to be enjoying himself. That isn't to say it was easy for him, but he wasn't anywhere near as tired as the other three; even if he weren't strong enough, which Russ suspected he was anyway, Greg could just win a war of attrition. After a gruesome seven minutes, he flattened his opposition and beat his fists in the air. "Hell yes! You see that sis, tougher than three men!"

"It's nice that you're happy," Russel interjected as he collected 40 gold from his bet, "but please tell me we have rooms and food?"

Merinda turned to him with a smile, "Yes, I got us accommodation. Our food will be with us shortly. You ever had any venison?"

Greg POV

At first, it they found it entertaining to watch Russel struggle with his food. He had to get accustomed to his long snout and that all of his teeth were sharp; not designed for chewing. But soon enough they ate their food with gusto, and for the first time they all tried 'mead'; it was essentially a sweet beer-like alcohol made from honey. Whilst, Russ and Meri got tipsy, he felt nothing. _'From now on, its going to take a lot of alcohol to get me drunk'_ he thought with satisfaction. An hour later, after it got dark, they decided to head off to their rooms and that's when dear Merinda decided to inform him that while she has a room to herself since she's a lady and couldn't have any men perv on her, yet they could share as "lads can just be roommates because you have bromance or whatever you call it" as she aptly put it.

And so, the two of them awkwardly walked into their room to find two beds on either side of the room with a dresser between them. _'Thank goodness.'_ he thought. They sat down on their beds in silence, looking at each other without knowing what to say. The circumstances were such that there were no covers, so they wouldn't have to undress, but they've only known each other for a day and now had to share a room, even if only for a night.

Looking to break the silence, Greg asked "So we're heading out to Whiterun tomorrow?". To his surprise, Russel answered in the negative, "No, we'll clear out Embershard Mine, the one to the West of here. I asked Alvor about an armour suit for you," That piece of information grabbed his attention, "but its darn expensive." And that piece of information dampened his mood. But Russel continued, "So I made a deal that if we clear out the mine, he'll drop the price so that we could afford it." Silence, took over again, so Russel lay down to sleep, and Greg followed, but the quality of the beds was appalling and neither could get very comfortable. Greg just stared at the ceiling for some time, lost in thought, until he turned hi head to look at Russ and said, "Hey, Russel?"

Russ just looked at him, tired but also not asleep, "Yeah?" he whispered.

Greg fiddled with his fingers for a moment, uncomfortable with saying what he wanted to say, but knowing it had to be said. After taking a deep breath, he shakily said, "Look, you clearly know what you're doing... I mean, you're the one who makes plans on the go, adapts to situations, you're managing our finance and resources... trying to...what I want to say... what I am saying is that... Thank you. Thank you for looking out for us."

Russ's slitted eyes glinted in the darkness, staring at him. With a deadpan tone he answered, "Not to detract from the sincerity with which you said that but that really isn't something you ought to be thanking me for. Not wanting people to die of hypothermia isn't revolutionary as far as morality and common decency are concerned."

"And I'm sorry about what happened in Helgen. Truth be told, you're not the first to tell me off for my attitude."

Russel sighed on the other side of the room, "Bygones are bygones, what happened in Helgen stays in Helgen. What's more, I really don't have a problem with you." At this Greg sat up, listening intently. "I overreacted because I was scared as hell that the lightning-flinging psychopath was going to incinerate us. Seeing you of all people go down like that, how do you think I felt? If he could do what he did to a beast like you I, I... We need each other. So long as we haven't mastered our respective disciplines, our only chance of survival it to look out for each other and work together."

Greg pondered on that question for a while, "That means we'll have to split up, right? How are we going to learn our crafts? Can you imagine me at the magicians school in Winterhold?"

"Not necessarily, we might be able to learn a large portion of what we need in Whiterun. Think about it; the Companions will surely accept a new recruit who wants to keep his family safe, I can probably ask the local huntsmen for lessons and Meri can go to the Jarl's court wizard. I'm sure we could live off of some simple bounties before tackling any serious quests. But back to the present; you'll have to go to Alvor tomorrow morning."

"Why?" Greg inquired.

"Well he needs to know your dimensions before he can start making your armour. You're bigger than average, if you know what I mean."

Grinning from ear to ear, Greg said, "Oh, I know very well what you mean."

.

.

.

"Ugh, please don't go ther-"

"To be fair," Greg continued, "these trousers do feel pretty tight seeing as how I'm so large."

"Do you mind? I-"

Undeterred, he went on, holding in his laughter, "If not for the fact that we have to share this room, I would already have relieved myself of those clothes and been getting acquainted with my massive size."

"Fuck, I didn't need that image in my head!"

Merinda POV

Morning sunlight kissed her eyes as the sun rose above the trees. Merinda could smell the fragrances of the forest; the pines, the dew and wild flowers floated inside through the open window and intermingled with the countryside odours of farm animals. She woke up fresh and well rested, even if the bed consisted of nothing more than straw and fur atop a frame. Her spell tome on Fireball lay on the dresser beside her after she read well into the night. She got up, packed all of her belongings and walked out to the inn's main hall, ready to start the next day. She walked up to the boys' room and knocked three times, hoping that the sleepy heads aren't heavy sleepers. Well, her brother was but she hoped Russel would wake up. She wasn't going to barge into a men's room. Ew. Who knows what she would end up coming across and seeing?

Someone shuffled behind the door, and from the noise he made, it probably wasn't her brother. When Russel first opened the door, she couldn't see the bags under his eyes; his new face didn't display the same amount of information as a humanoid one. When she asked if he wanted eggs or bacon, his first response amounted to "Huh, where... wha- oh... yeah. Bacon obviously."

A bit irate at his manners, she told him to wake up her brother so that they could join her for breakfast. He was inquisitive as to what an Argonian would eat. She had no clue, and whilst it may have been a prefect opportunity to play a prank on Russ by saying lizards eat bugs and tree-sap, she decided against it saying he eats what normal people eat. At that time, her compatriots joined her by the table, each still yawning. 'How could they not be rested?' she thought.

"So, you guys want to head out already or stay here for a while?" she inquired.

Greg was the first to answer, "Neither. We're going to slay some bastards and kick some ass."

Noticing her confusion Russel explained, "We're clearing out Embershard Mine to get a discount at the smith to get Greg his armour." He was irate at having to retell the plan.

Orgnar brought them their breakfast at that point; she got a lovely roasted chicken breast and roasted potatoes, Russ got his bacon as per his wishes which came with baked beans and Greg received a large salmon steak with buttered steamed veggies. Much to their surprise, as none paid too much attention to food in the game prior to this, their loaf of bread wasn't cut, neither was the cheese. In fact, everyone else at the inn just dipped their bread in the butter and munched on it. Merinda almost resigned to stooping so low and having to eat each food one at a time, but Russel pleasantly surprised her by drawing his dagger and joyously asking, "Would Madame like a sandwich a la Skyrim?" She didn't stop him, but noticed that all other patrons heard how he unsheathed his blade and watched anxiously, then curiously as the strange reptile man chopped up their food into slices and then spread the butter on the bread. Then put the cheese and tomatoes on the bread? But not quite happy, Merinda asked Orgnar for some lettuce, and so they had full fresh sandwiches to go with their breakfasts. The locals and visitors alike stared at them in stupor (someone giggled and commented at how stupid those three weirdoes were) and quickly some of the more adventurous replicated this strange meal and found it mighty delicious! Orgnar decided it will now become a special meal at The Sleeping Giant Inn.

Once they had their fill and were ready to set off, Greg left off for Alvor's smithy promising to meet them outside the Riverwood trader. And so Merinda and Russel went to Lucan. Meri was keen on exchanging her finished spell tomes for something new for her to learn. As much fun as casting fire was, she'd prefer the ability to heal her injury-prone brother. Russel however, claimed he wanted to browse Lucan's wares and get a good grasp on prices. Following the world's tendency to not adhere to the script, when they entered the shop, there was no argument taking place between Lucan and his sister. So without further ado, the duo managed to buy what they needed; Merinda swapped out her spell tomes for a copy of Lesser Ward and Healing Hands although with a surcharge of 15 coins. Russel soon spotted a satchel on the shelves and as his intuition would have it, it was indeed one of the space-warping variety. Much to his chagrin however, the price was astronomically high at 240 coins. Granted, all things considered it was a reasonable price for a hyper-inventory bag but this didn't help their cause and current position much. Russel turned to her and asked, "How much do you recon we can comfortably fit into your bag?"

"Why?" she asked.

Russel turned his face back to the bag on the shelf bringing her attention back to it. "Because I'd rather know how badly we need another one of these. If you can only carry a handful of books and coin purses, then they act as mere boosts to our carrying capacity. However, if you could stuff Greg's battleaxe and your books and my bow then we can persevere with just yours for some time."

She decided not to point out how it was her bag and not something he should treat as his own to oversee, but decided to let go; he was right they will have to share resources. Finally, after a quick thought and a trial using some of Lucan's wares (with his permission of course) they found the bag to be spacious enough and the de-weighting effect potent enough to conclude that a single bag will suffice for now.

When they decided they had looked over everything they needed to, they met Greg waiting outside. Merinda saw him handing Russel a scabbard with a sword in it. The young man's eyes lit up and he took it with glee.

And so, they started off in the direction of Embershard Mine, to complete their first quest.


End file.
